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Sir Edward coughed in warning. He should never have mentioned that possibility to the child. He prayed the earl would forgive her indiscretion. Being a simple merchant’s daughter, she had never met anyone from the upper levels of the nobility.
Before Sir Giles could recover his surprise, Thomas turned to her. “Do you like apple tarts?”
She closed her eyes in rapture. Her little pink tongue darted between her lips. “Aye, I do so adore them!”
“And I, as well,” the young man confided. “Let us visit the kitchens now. I am famished.”
Alicia giggled, and held up the puppy. “And so is Georgie, methinks.”
Turning back to his father, Thomas inclined his head. “Father?” he asked.
Sir Edward detected a flicker of fear in the boy’s remarkable blue eyes before he looked down to the stone floor. Brampton considered the bruise again, and wondered if Sir Giles beat his sons, Thomas in particular.
The earl coughed, blew his nose, then waved away the children. “Take her to the kitchen. Give the lass all the tarts she can eat. Well, don’t just stand there like a hobbledehoy. Be off, Thomas!”
For the first time since he had appeared, Thomas smiled. By all the saints! Sir Edward could scarcely believe the handsome change that came over the lad’s face. The boy threw a sidelong glance at Alicia, who grinned at him in return.
“Let us away, before your papa changes his mind,” she whispered.
Thomas nodded. With hasty bows, the young couple departed.
“Do you like your tarts with cream?” he asked as they went out the far door.
“With lots and lots,” Alicia replied.
Thomas’s deeper voice echoed back into the hall. “Me, too.”
The earl stared wide-eyed after them, then drained his ale. “God’s teeth! Did you hear that, my lord? Thomas has not spoken that many words in my hearing for years. What magic does your little changeling weave?”
Love and acceptance, Sir Edward wanted to tell the amazed father. Instead, he replied, “I know not, my lord. Alicia has a way with folk—with animals, too.”
Sir Giles struck the tabletop with the flat of his hand. “If you say aye to Thomas, then ‘tis a match. We can draw up the contract—after that supper your little minx requested. God’s sooth! She has her royal father’s charm.”
Sir Edward exhaled, and found the experience a soothing one. “You have my word upon it, my lord. Come Alicia’s eighteenth birthday, I shall bring her to Wolf Hall to be wed to Thomas.”
Sir Giles rose and extended his hand. “We are agreed, Brampton.” He regarded his guest with his piercing blue eyes. “You did say the lass gets along with animals?”
“Aye, you saw as much, my lord.”
The Earl of Thornbury smiled. “Good, for she will be living with a damnable kennel.”
Wolf Hall
Early August 1497
“My lord, you have guests.” Dane Stokes pounded on the thick oaken door of the tiny library. “My lord?”
Thomas Cavendish, the new Earl of Thornbury, hunched deeper in the chamber’s only chair. He pretended to read the Latin text in his hands. Perhaps if he ignored his steward’s battering long enough, Stokes would give up, and send away the unwanted visitors. A wide black mourning band slipped down Thomas’s arm to his elbow. Scowling, he hitched it back up.
Blast the Fates! He had never wanted to be the earl. Had never even considered such a laughable idea. A little over a month ago, his father had been alive and healthy. William and his wife fought like cats, but that was not unusual for them. John’s wedding to a young, wealthy heiress was to be celebrated at the Harvest Festival in September. Meanwhile, Thomas had spent the bright sunlit days pursuing badgers.
“Caught a fair lot of them, did we not?” he asked the undersize brown-and-white terrier of mixed pedigree who nestled on his lap.
Lifting his head, Taverstock perked his ears and licked his lips in reply.
Stokes pounded on the door again. “Sir Thomas, ‘tis some high-and-mighty lord who awaits your pleasure in the hall. Him and his ladies.”
Thomas groaned softly. Not more women. He had one too many as it was. William’s ferret-faced wife, Isabel, refused to accept her widowhood with good grace. He wished that the witch would pack up her chests of clothes and return to her father.
“And leave me in peace,” he added aloud as he scratched the sleek head of the fawn-colored miniature greyhound, who reclined beside his chair.
Vixen looked up at her master with open affection in her deep brown eyes.
“Aye, Vixen, you are the only lady in my life,” Thomas continued, massaging her velvet ears.
Impatient with his master’s misdirected attention, Taverstock pushed his wet nose against the open page of Thomas’s expensive copy of The Comedies of Plautus. Clicking a reprimand with his tongue, Thomas closed the book, and placed it on the table beside him.
Stokes knocked once more. “My Lord Cavendish, do you hear me?” he persisted. “What am I to do with them?”
Send the high-and-mighty lord to the devil and dispatch the ladies after him. Thomas sighed. “Things are not the same as they were, eh, Tavie?”
The terrier licked his lips again, then sneezed wetly.
“Please, my lord. The company has come a long way to see you.”
“Who?” Thomas thundered at his persistent steward.
His loud tone woke the mastiff dozing in the nearby corner. The dog lifted his gray-flecked muzzle, then yawned, displaying two rows of large, sharp teeth.
“’Tis Sir Edward Brampton and his lady wife. Sir Edward says he requests a most urgent conference with you.”
“Never heard of him,” Thomas told his three canine companions. “What in blazes do you suppose he wants?” In a louder voice, he asked Stokes, “What for?”
“I know not, my lord, save that the younger lady has brought all her baggage with her. Sir Edward said for me to tell you…” Stokes’s voice trailed away.
“What?” Thomas bellowed.
“That СКАЧАТЬ